


give a man a fish, he eats for a day...

by knockoffmulder



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, i’m not sorry for writing this but i am a little sorry for the quality, mando learns to knit!, the proper care and feeding of your new baby yoda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22045636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knockoffmulder/pseuds/knockoffmulder
Summary: ...teach a man to knit, he has warm clothing for a lifetime.Or,Mando learns to knit because Baby Yoda needs clothes and an old woman takes pity on them both.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 256





	give a man a fish, he eats for a day...

They had ended up in an outdoor market in a town that was slightly colder than was comfortable, especially when the sun went down. And of course, the sun was only out for about 4 hours a day this time of year. He could feel the chill seeping through to his skin from the chilled metal of his armor, but it was nothing he couldn’t deal with for now. 

Tottering along beside him is the child, who he thinks might look a little paler than normal. Perhaps they were cold? Children of most species were more fragile than adults, after all. He sighs and reaches down to scoop the child up into his arms; this has the bonus effect of letting him walk a bit faster through the crowds. 

He’s been studiously ignoring the merchants shouting at him and everyone else as they pass by, hardly even looking at what they have to offer. But something stops him when an old woman calls out, “Mandalorian!” There’s a command in her voice that he feels mysteriously compelled to obey, so he weaves his way past the people standing between him and the old woman’s stall. 

She is ancient, stooped and wrinkled and squinting at him from behind a set of thick magnifying lenses. “That youngling isn’t properly attired for this weather, Mandalorian,” she tells him disapprovingly. “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for a child catching their death.” 

“I suppose not,” he replies. “I suspect you can help me?” The woman smiles at him. 

“In fact, I can!” She gestures to the counter in front of her, which he realizes is full of soft, thick fibers in a variety of colors. “Now, I’ve got some things premade, but I’m afraid none of them are suited to the little one’s ears.” The woman coos a little in the child’s direction as she says this, and the child coos back at her. He tries not to roll his eyes beneath the helmet, even though they can’t see him. (It’s the principle of the thing.)

“So what would you suggest?” he asks. 

“I’m glad you asked, son! Now, I could whip something up in a couple of hours, if you don’t mind waiting.” 

“Out here?” 

“Oh, of course not. It’s much too cold for that. You can come with me, I had planned to pack up soon anyway.” She looks expectantly at him and he nods his acquiescence. Thus in agreement, she begins to pack up her wares while he moves off to the side, further out of the hustle and bustle of the crowd. 

She leads them to what he assumes is her home. It is a small, dilapidated house squeezed in between other small, dilapidated houses. He thinks that it looks almost abandoned. 

The woman hustles them inside and sets about lighting a fire, muttering about warming the place up. Once they are inside the child, who had been fairly complacent until now, begins wriggling until he sets them down. They totter over to the newly lit fire and babble happily, stretching out their arms to the heat. “Be careful,” he warns. They don’t pay attention, so he makes sure to sit in a chair facing them. 

The woman joins him at the table where he is sitting, her arms now full of some of the same fibers she had for sale earlier and several long, pointed sticks. She dropps it between them in the table. “Now, I’m gonna whip that poor child up a nice hat, but I’m also going to teach you to knit, because children grow and it’s your job as a parent to keep them clothed. You’ll make a scarf, to start.”

“I’m not-“ he begins to protest, but he cuts off his complaint about his parental status at the look on her face. She assesses him for a moment before nodding and handing him two of the sticks. 

The next several hours pass quickly as he focuses on following her instructions to use the sticks for weaving the fibers together in a particular way. Once he is slowly stitching his way to a scarf, she sits back in her chair and begins the promised hat, much more quickly than he is working. She makes idle chat with him and the child as she works. The child seems lulled by her voice, eventually dozing on the carpet in front of the fire. He decidedly does not think about how adorable that is. 

He has maybe a third of a scarf by the time the old woman finishes the hat and presents it to him. She refuses his offer of payment until he whittles it down to a fraction of what he initially offered. She then tries to convince them to stay overnight, arguing that it is long past sunset. He insists that they must be on their way, and she in turn insists that he take his scarf-in-progress and the set of sticks (needles, she corrects him). 

He rouses the child and places the new hat on their head; it looks warm and painfully adorable. With a last round of thanks and a final refused offer of payment, they set off into the evening. 

When they get back to the ship, he makes sure to place the needles and scarf safely away until he has time to finish with them. 

He is, shockingly, looking forward to the project as a way to relax after long days, and he groans at the knitwear he is beginning to imagine in their future.

**Author's Note:**

> if u somehow found this and you’re not twitter user @bebyyoda, i talk about baby yoda [@troicrusher](http://www.twitter.com/troicrusher)


End file.
